by Margaret Atwood

A bottle green Hay Festival Press book containing a selection of short stories by Margaret Atwood.
People die, and then they come back at night when you're asleep. By the time you're my age this happens more frequently. In the dream you know they're dead; funny thing is, they know it too. The usual places are a boat or a forest; less often a cabin or an isolated farmhouse, and even more rarely, a room. If a room, there's often a window; if a window, there will be curtains – white – or heavy draperies, also white. Never Venetian blinds: they don't like that kind of lighting, the day or night falling in slantwise through the slats. It makes them flicker even more than they normally do.

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